


we were gambling to win

by littledust



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-28
Updated: 2012-07-28
Packaged: 2017-11-10 21:43:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/471021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littledust/pseuds/littledust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha meets her would-be assassin and gets a surprising offer instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we were gambling to win

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Gold Guns Girls" by Metric.

The pavement is blood-warm despite the hour, weeds tangling up and over the cracks. Natasha removes a neon green handkerchief from her purse and ties it over her head, concealing the red of her hair. Dark sunglasses follow, along with a fringed shawl. The disguise looks hasty, desperate. In a way, it is.

The shadow that's been at her heels for the past week fires its first shot.

" _Arrows_ ," she says to herself in Russian, twisting out of the way. She pulls the arrow out of the weeds--fortunate that it struck earth instead of pavement--and rolls into the shallow ditch she noticed when she walked past the street earlier today. More arrows bury themselves in the dirt; Natasha whips off the sunglasses, shielding her eyes with one hand and willing her pupils to widen faster as she scans the darkness. There are only so many vantage points here, especially for an archer.

_There._

Natasha kicks over a trash can, up and running into the shadows over the sound of clanging metal, the arrow already tucked in her bag to function as an additional weapon. She scales the fire escape so fast her feet scarcely seem to touch the stairs. All the while, her brain ticks along to one thought: Too stupid, too easy. They've finally sent a worthy opponent after her and he's about to be undone by choosing a broken window about two meters from the building's fire escape.

She doesn't hesitate as she steps off the stairs and onto the narrow ledge protruding from the building. The brick is warm, too, more like bathwater than blood. She runs, cat quick, hurling a knife through the smashed glass to precede her arrival--

\--and her would-be assassin steps onto the ledge just as easily, her knife in his hand.

"Barton," she acknowledges with a nod. She's read his profile, seen grainy pictures. She should have guessed from the arrows, should have known he would be comfortable with heights. Too stupid, too easy. She assumed she was the one doing the luring.

"I was sent her to kill you." Barton twirls her knife in his hand, then offers it to her hilt first. "I think I'd rather inquire about your job satisfaction."

"It's a living." A brief pulse of excitement sends the taste of copper to her mouth. There are days when Natasha wakes up with sixteen different names, all of them equally real. Leaving her employers won't change any of that. "Not much of one, to be honest."

She'd rather not wake up with any more names, though. She accepts the knife and takes out the arrow.

Barton nods. "We should talk somewhere more private."

"You won't ever be sure my change of heart is real," Natasha says, toying with the arrow. She tests the point with her index finger, then hands it over.

He tucks it into his quiver, smile a suggestion in the play of streetlight and shadow over his face. "Give me a little more credit."

"I could ask the same." Natasha turns and heads back down the ledge. As she leaps onto the fire escape once more, she turns her head. "Coming?"


End file.
